and with this feeling i'll forget
by emptyvessels
Summary: Jemma Simmons knows how to get herself out of trouble.


I am so bad at this and I am so sorry.

Neither one of these wonderful characters are mine. The title is a lyric taken from the song 'Kiss Me' by Ed Sheeran.

* * *

Fitz frowned as he found himself waking up in an empty bed, his arms instinctively reaching out only to find no one to hold onto. He squinted his eyes as they adjusted to the bright morning sun peeking in through half-opened blinds in the bedroom. The alarm clock on the nightstand told him it was already half past noon and he contemplated for a brief moment not even getting up at all. It wasn't as though he had anywhere to be.

But then, what fun was an empty bed?

Sleepily, he dragged his feet along the cool hardwood floors in the hallway of the suite and found himself in the kitchenette. Simmons sat at the table, eyes glued to the screen of the laptop in front of her, her entire face twisted into an expression he often referred to as her 'thinking face'.

"When did you get up?" He asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

Her eyes darted to the corner of the screen, checking the time. "About an hour and a half ago. Good morning."

"'S technically afternoon, but mornin'," he smiled and leaned in to plant a kiss on the back of her wet head. "Showered without me?"

She glanced at him and rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault you need more beauty sleep than I do."

"Everyone needs more beauty sleep than you do," he remarked, ignoring the scoff-like sound she made in response to his comment, and lazily made his way towards the tiny refrigerator. He scanned its contents and decided on a bowl of cereal, reaching for the milk and closing the door. He crossed the room to retrieve a bowl and a box of cereal from the pantry.

"So what are you looking at there?" he asked from where he stood making his cereal, popping a few dry flakes into his mouth before pouring most of what was left in the box into the bowl.

She didn't respond, causing him to spin around on the heels of his feet, knowing very well what she was doing. He rushed over to the laptop, snatched it out from in front of her and abruptly shut it. "No, no, no, no. Nope. No S.H.I.E.L.D.-related things. You _promised_."

"Fitz! I was just checking in, I promise!" She frowned and folded her arms across her lap. "_Fiiiitz_," she pouted.

He pressed the computer to his chest and walked into the bedroom, sliding the machine underneath the bed. He walked back into the kitchenette and grabbed his bowl of cereal, sliding into the seat facing Simmons, who did not look happy. He narrowed his eyes and met her gaze, ready for a showdown.

He shoveled a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chewing slowly. "So," he spoke, swallowing his food, "since everyone knows not to disturb us with work things, _what_ exactly _were_ you 'checking in' on?" he asked, his tone even and calm.

She shrugged and looked away, pretending to be picking off a piece of lint off her t-shirt.

"That's fine, keep your secret. It's not like I know _anything_ about machines anyway, so there is no way in hell I could turn on that computer and find out what you were doing."

She slammed her fists against the table, admitting defeat. "Fine! I was… doing… I was hacking," she spoke the last word as if it she didn't quite know how to pronounce it. Fitz' eyes widened. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Skye taught me how once. And I know there is something about this Kozlov case that they're not telling us."

"Jemma! You mean the case we aren't even _on_?" He sounded genuinely shocked, although he often found himself wondering why at this point he wasn't more accustomed to his partner doing exactly the opposite of what you would expect from her. "I don't know whether to be impressed or upset, to be honest."

"Impressed. I vote for impressed." She flashed him the most innocent of smiles. "And I know we're not technically on the case. But the whole thing doesn't sit well with me. A man under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watch or protection doesn't just disappear. I detest not knowing what's going on.

A heavy sigh. He understood her concern, of course, but he wished she could just forget about work sometimes. It wasn't like their lives would ever be normal again – you don't deal with alien viruses or people who can set telepathically set things on fire and walk away unscathed, but was it really too much to ask for a little bit of undivided attention?

"But this is supposed to be _our_ time. They're fine without us for now. You know they'd call us if they really needed us for something." He frowned and returned to his breakfast. He knew very well that he was overreacting. He just didn't care.

He loved their jobs – as reluctant as he'd been about it at the beginning, he had to admit, even if only to himself, that he'd grown quite fond of the thrill that came along with constant threats to his life. He still preferred security and stability above all else, but he'd come a long way since his days at the academy, and he had Simmons and the team to thank for that.

However, that didn't mean that a day or two away from it all wasn't a welcome break from routine, especially considering how rare these occasions presented themselves.

Simmons didn't have to petition with him for time off if she didn't want to pull herself away from work.

"Don't be angry with me, Leo." She said in her sweetest voice. His weakness.

He looked up from his cereal and she was now at his side, rubbing his shoulder with one hand and using the other to twist him around in his seat. She slid into his lap and buried her face in his neck. He shuddered at the contact, her breath on his skin sending tiny waves of warmth throughout the rest of his body.

"Leo," she said his name again, her voice coarse and sultry this time, planting kisses along his neck, throat and shoulders.

His eyes shut tightly and head tilted back, he moaned softly. _Fuck_. She knew what she was doing. He was upset about something just a minute ago, but that hardly seemed important now.

He was about to open his mouth to mutter something to her about dealing with it later but her hands had found their way down his chest, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt, soft fingers crazing the skin at his sides. Her lips crashed against his, stopping him before he could even get a syllable out. Steadily, she began to rock her hips against his, sliding her arms around his waist, nails gripping at his back. It took nearly every ounce of willpower he had in him to refrain from pinning her down to the table – he knew well enough to not try to take charge of the situation when Jemma was this way. She knew what she wanted and really, it was in his own best interest to let her have her way.

She managed to pry herself off him long enough to lead him back into the bedroom, where they crashed onto the large unmade bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Rolling over so that Jemma was straddling once again, he watched as she hastily slipped out of her oversized t-shirt (which he was pretty sure was actually _his _but he obviously didn't mind sharing). He followed suit and slipped out of his own. His hands gripped her hips tightly, sliding underneath the elastic waistband of her sweat shorts. She moaned into his mouth in appreciation as his hands disappeared further beneath the fabric, tugging it down as she struggled to slip out of them without breaking contact.

"I'm sorry, Leo," she managed to say between feverishly crashing her lips against his. "I promise... Rest of this weekend, I'm yours."

He couldn't help but take her word for it. He laid back as she slid down his body, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest, and just let her have her way with him.


End file.
